


Bad Wisdom

by azephirin



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Child Abuse, Community: help_haiti, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashback, Girl!Spock, Non-Graphic Violence, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-18
Updated: 2010-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>What price to pay for bad wisdom?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/gifts).



> Written for [](http://medie.livejournal.com/profile)[**medie**](http://medie.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/)'s [lightning round](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/2706.html). Title and summary from "[Bad Wisdom](http://www.suzannevega.com/music/lyrics/SongDetails.aspx?songid=2186acda-dbb4-4332-b377-ccd2c045985c)," by Suzanne Vega. Many thanks to [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[**fannishliss**](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/) for the speedy and helpful beta!

He's recused himself from the committee, officially because of his mentorship of Jim, but unofficially because of his relationship with Spock as well; still, they want him to sit in on the hearing. Chris has no idea why—maybe the admiralty thinks he can help handle her. Which he could have told them is useless: There are few things Spock appreciates less than being handled, in a variety of contexts.

She sits at the far end of the table, perfectly composed, dressed in the typical long skirt and boots that she wears when not in uniform, her hair arranged in the elaborate system of twists and braids that reflect her family's social position. Her legs are crossed at the knee; her hands are in her lap. For all that her expression betrays, she might be seated on the couch in Chris's living room waiting for him to be ready to go to dinner.

After recording the date, the individuals present, the issue at hand—Chris has sat through enough of these things that his brain tends to skip over the adminstrativia—the hearing starts in earnest.

"Commander Spock," says Nogura, "would you like to explain your actions of two days ago?"

"I attend this hearing at your pleasure, Admiral, and shall expound upon any matter the committee wishes."

Chris can already feel the knot in his forehead begin to form. He wants to rub the spot between his eyes, but forces his hands to stay at his sides.

"Commander," says Komack, who has more of a brain and also knows Vulcans and Spock, "please tell us about your altercation with Frank Marinski two days ago."

Spock nods and begins to explain the events that, at this point, Chris knows only too well. The short version is: During shore leave in San Francisco, at a reception celebrating Jim's negotiation of a particularly delicate treaty, Jim's ex-stepfather appeared. Chris had been on the other side of the room, playing entourage to the commander-in-chief, and hadn't seen Marinski.

(He can't believe he didn't see him—he used to have eyes, ears, and a nose for somebody like that. Maybe it's finally been long enough, a thought that is both disturbing and reassuring.)

Marinski had first spoken with McCoy and Spock: "And why not with Captain Kirk, Commander?" asks Archer.

"The captain was in the midst of a discussion with Commodore April and his wife, and interruption would have been infelicitous. Commander McCoy and I were better able to excuse ourselves to greet Mr. Marinski."  
__

_Translation_, Chris thinks: _Jim spotted him, and Spock and McCoy took over from there._

Spock and McCoy had asked Marinski to leave. But Marinski had not gone quietly, and when he began to raise his voice, Jim had come over. Marinski had asked to speak with Jim privately; Jim had agreed and gone out into the hallway with him. They returned about ten minutes later, and then Marinski left.

Later that evening, Marinski appeared at an emergency room with a bruised kidney and three broken ribs, along with a black eye and various other cuts and bruises. He had opted not to press charges—Chris has made a few discreet inquiries regarding who McCoy, who does clinic hours at two different public hospitals twice a week, might have known in that ER, and what might have been said to the on-site law enforcement.

(They protect each other like siblings, these three.)

Charges or not, Command had found out about it, and here they are, instead of at Chris's house in Mojave or on a beach in Tahiti or any number of other places that would have been preferable.

"Would you care to—" Nogura starts, then begins again. "Please explain your actions, Commander Spock."

"I was following the traditional Terran custom of revenge," Spock explains, completely unruffled. "No doubt you know this far better than I, Admiral, but when a person to whom one is bound as friend or kin suffers mistreatment at the hands of another, a duty arises to seek revenge upon the malefactor. I can provide supporting citations from the literature and media of a variety of Terran cultures, should the committee require them."

"What did you want revenge for?" Archer asks, bluntly.

"It is not my place to discuss Captain Kirk's and Mr. Marinski's personal histories, Admiral."

Komack sighs. "Let's just put it on the table: Marinski was married to Winona Kirk for a while and beat the crap out of both her kids. We're under confidentiality, so I trust this won't be repeated."

Spock says nothing.

Nogura forays ahead. "Commander, I don't understand. You've been one of the most staunch supporters of maintaining peace with the Romulans. Yet a Romulan destroyed Vulcan. You don't want revenge for that?"

"First, Admiral, revenge is not a Vulcan custom. Indeed, it would in many instances violate the principles of Surak. However, as Captain Kirk and Mr. Marinski are both Terran and the wrongdoing took place on Earth, it seemed logical to follow the Terran practice."

(_I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. That goddamned son of a bitch._ His father's voice, from the living room. This his mother: _Bill, you'd have to find him first. Let's just…Chris needs us. Needs to...get better. Let's focus on that._)

"Second," Spock continues, "the mass murderer Nero admitted that he did not speak or act for the Romulan Star Empire. To lay the blame and exact revenge for the destruction of Vulcan upon a planet full of innocent beings purely because of their genetic similarity to the perpetrator would be quite illogical. It would be as illogical as setting you, Admiral, at fault for Mr. Marinski's actions because you both share human heritage."

"Indeed," says Komack, and rubs two fingers between his eyes. _You and me both,_ Chris thinks.

**************************

Later, as they're walking back to Chris's apartment, he says wryly to Spock, "Congratulations on being the first Vulcan in Starfleet history to be assigned to anger-management classes."

"I anticipate that they will be educational," she says, serene. "Perhaps I will gain new insights into human cultures and practices. Besides, as you know, I am half human. Thus the Vulcan record remains untarnished."

Chris half wants to laugh, and half wants to put his face in his hands. "Spock," he adds, "you know that just because Terran media says something—"

"It is not necessarily true." She sounds mildly insulted. "However, the theme of revenge, and of the desire for revenge, appears prominently in many different forms and genres. It is sometimes said to be inadvisable and disfavored, and yet the longing for it is clearly present."

"So we may talk about it," Chris says, a little uncomfortably, "but we don't actually do it."

"A human tendency I have noticed in a variety of fora," Spock fires back.

They don't speak the rest of the way home.

 

**************************

They're getting ready for bed when Spock volunteers, "Jim commed while you were bathing."

Chris turns from where he's hanging his pants in the closet, but Spock, half undressed, has the elegant line of her back to him. From this alone Chris gathers that the conversation was not a hundred percent harmonious. "What'd Jim say?" Chris asks.

"He continues to believe that I acted illogically. Our communication was brief. I shall speak with him again tomorrow, or perhaps the day after."

Translation: _He's angry, defensive, embarrassed, and grateful. We had a fight. I hope he's not still mad in a day or two._

"You did what the rest of us wanted to do," Chris says.

Spock turns back around. Though she's clad in her usual flannel pajamas—no slinky lingerie for Spock, who would be shivering at the compromise temperature they've worked out for the bedroom—and her hair has been taken down and brushed out, her height and posture preserve her regality. She raises an eyebrow.

"You think McCoy and I didn't want to take that asshole into an alley and pummel him bloody? Hell, it's probably a good thing I didn't know he was there until it was too late—I might have done it a lot sooner and more publicly than you did. Though I doubt I'd have done it quite as expertly—my fighting years are behind me at this point."

Spock sits down on the bed, then leans against the headboard and draws up her knees. Her feet are bare, her toenails unpainted and as pale as the moon. "I inflicted upon Marinski the exact injuries documented by a hospital report dated 2243.57 as having been perpetrated upon Jim."

In 2243, Jim would have been ten. Chris feels sick. "Jesus, Spock."

"Of course, the circumstances were different: Frank Marinski and I were both adults. However, the greater strength afforded by my physiology at least partially restored the imbalance present when Marinski beat Jim as a child." Spock slides forward and lies down on the bed. Imposing bearing set aside, she looks suddenly exhausted. She goes on, "During the hearing, I lied by omission."

"How so?" Chris asks.

Spock rolls onto her side, hair spilling around her head. It's an unspoken invitation, and Chris reaches down to run his fingers over and through the thick, glossy strands. "I stated that I had followed a Terran tradition, which is true, but I followed Vulcan custom as well. Vulcans do not believe in the punishment of crimes for the sake of punishment itself—that is illogical, as there is no gain from a purely punitive action. However, it is logical to order the restoration of what has been taken by the crime and to rehabilitate the criminal in order that he or she may become a productive member of society. Alternatively, it is logical to contain a dangerous individual in order to prevent further crimes." Chris wonders where she's going with this, but doesn't interrupt. "Yet sometimes punishment is necessary not for any of those purposes but rather to demonstrate that the society holds the act in disfavor. One who harms young beings should be punished, Chris. Jim's stepfather never was. Nor was the instructor who perpetrated criminal acts upon you."

"Coach," Chris says. His voice doesn't quite work, but he gets the words out. "He was a baseball coach."

"Ah, I had forgotten the distinction in Standard between an authority figure who prepares children for an academic examination and one who prepares them for an athletic contest." Spock must be very tired, Chris thinks, inanely—her Standard is otherwise never less than flawless. "The coach, then. He harmed you and others, and yet, to the best of anyone's knowledge, he was never apprehended to prevent him from harming children elsewhere, nor was he made to feel the condemnation of your society."

"No," Chris agrees.

(Several years ago, when he was serving as captain of the _Edward Kennedy_, Chris received a message from someone to whom he hadn't spoken since they were children. The subject was "See attachment"; there was no text at all, neither greeting nor signature. Attached to the message was a death certificate, several months recent, showing a name Chris recognized immediately. Chris didn't respond to the message: no reply was needed.)

Spock's eyes begin to close, and Chris turns out the lamp. She arranges the covers around them, and he pulls her close with a hand on the small of her back. She settles into his arms, settles her own around him, then says, slow with sleep, "Perhaps it is fortunate that this individual has already proceeded into death. Were I ever to encounter him, it is unlikely that I would be able to summon the discipline to leave him alive."

"You don't need to avenge me, Spock," Chris says. "Those things happened forty-odd years ago, and, like you said, the guy's dead."

"I retain an illogical desire to kill him nevertheless."

Something deep in Chris's gut steadies and untwists for the first time that day. But he just kisses Spock good-night and says, "Go to sleep." She does.

It's rare that he gets to see her like this, resting while he watches. He strokes Spock's hair and the delicate points of her ears; listens to her breathing, shallow and regular; traces random patterns on her warm skin.

Sometime, at some point, he'll sleep.


End file.
